I Will Always Be Here
by TacticianZephine
Summary: At sixteen years old, Kenny McCormick's pretty much learned what to expect out of a Saturday night at home. Plenty of fighting between his parents and brother. But one night his brother turns a gun on their father in a drunken rage, and their little sister is caught in the crossfire, leading Kenny to question his worth as a protector. Rated for abuse, swearing, and dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

"_FUCK YOU!_"

"_GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!_"

"_YOU'RE BOTH PIECES OF SHIT NOW SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND QUIT THIS BULLSHIT!_"

The sounds of breaking glass and drunken slurs was nothing new on Saturday nights. It had been this way for years. Ever since he could remember. His father, drunk to the point of stupidity, his brother, combative and probably more than a little drunk himself, and his mother, just as drunk as either her husband or son, screaming her "mediation" over the cries of her youngest child.

That was the only thing that had changed in all these years. His little sister no longer cried. In fact, she never said much of anything anymore. To anyone.

He'd once taken a call from the school that she was going to be given out-of-school suspension for not talking in class when she was called on. He'd promised her that he wouldn't say anything to their parents, that he'd take care of it. But his plan had gone out the window the next day, when the letter came. Their father had flown off the handle, and the next thing he remembered, he was waking up on the floor an hour later with glass shards and blood in his hair. That had taken nineteen stitches to close up, and six months to fully heal.

The thin boy ran a hand through his blond hair at the memory, touching the scar and twirling his pencil in his fingers. He brushed the eraser shavings away from the drawing, sighing a little bit. He continued filling in feathers on the wings of the angel in his drawing, cleaning up the edges as he did so. Next came the folds in her skirt, her little hands clasped together...

That was when he heard the gunshots.

The cracks ringing in his ears, Kenny bolted from his room.

He skidded around the corner into the living room, and froze in the doorway at the sight of his family. Stuart was completely frozen against the far wall, two fresh bullet holes still smoking in the plaster. His gun, the one that was kept under the floorboard by the couch in case drug dealers came by, was clutched in Kevin's hands.

Wait.

There had been three shots. Where was the third bullet hole.

"... oh shit... aw fuck..." Kevin dropped their father's gun, shaking a little bit. "Shit Karen... why'd you have to get in the way!"

"Karen?" Kenny whirled to face the same way as his brother. Little Karen was crumpled in a heap on the floor, holding her right shoulder. Her pink t-shirt was quickly running scarlet.

Kenny saw red. His hands balled into fists, and blind rage took over. His knuckles connected with his brother's face over and over, each blow connecting with a dull _thud_ like meat being tenderized. Kevin's arms flailed, trying to knock his kid brother off, but to no avail.

It was the sound of Karen's crying that snapped Kenny back to his senses. He slid across the floor, scooping her up and glaring at their mother. "You just gonna stand there, or you gonna call a goddamn ambulance?!"


	2. Chapter 2

It was twenty minutes later that the ambulance was leaving and the cops were just finishing up. Kevin and their parents were being shoved into the back of separate squad cars. Kenny sighed, rising from his place crumpled on the front step, and returned inside.

He picked up the phone, dialing the familiar number. It rang several times before the voice answered. "Hello?"

"Kyle? 'S Kenny."

"Wh-Kenny? Dude, we were about to call you, we heard sirens, but they were gone before we got outside."

Kenny had started to head toward his sister's room, and opened the door, flicking on the light as he said his next words. "You at Stan's?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Got your car keys?"

"Yeah-Kenny, what's going on, we saw cop cars. Who got arrested?"

"Kevin and my old man, Ma's going down the station with 'em, and Karen's on her way to the hospital. Didn't go in with Kare, said I'd drive myself in with some stuff for her."

"Whoa, what, the _hospital_?! Jesus Christ, Kenny, what the hell happened?!"

The blond boy was quiet, toeing the floor beside his sister's small mattress in the corner as he searched for her raggedy old doll. "... Kev's drunk off his ass, grabbed the old man's gun. Guess he was shooting at Dad, but he hit Kare."

"Oh god... are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Just need a ride. Last time I missed curfew, old man shot the Jeep's tires out, so I can't drive out myself." Balancing the phone against his neck and shoulder, Kenny wrapped the doll in Karen's blanket, the same one she'd slept with for years. "Look, I'll come over there, not like 's that far a walk."

"We'll grab food on the way out. I'm guessing you didn't eat today."

"Not since Thursday."

"Jesus, Kenny, it's Sunday."

"Man, fuck you, it ain't morning yet." Kenny hung up the phone, taking the bundle and padding back to his own room.

He threw the bundle, a couple clean shirts, his sketchbook and a couple pencils into his threadbare backpack, pulled on a ratty Backstreet Boys t-shirt, and headed out. The air was cold enough that he could see his breath, a detail he hadn't noticed when the cops and ambulance had been in the yard. He shouldered the backpack, and took off running, hurtling the closing barriers as he spied the lights of the oncoming train, and continued onward.

It was a half-hour walk to Stan's, but Kenny managed to run there in ten minutes, not even breaking a sweat. If the fat-ass had been around, he'd've probably laughed and made a joke about Kenny being so in shape because he spent so much time running from the cops.

Well, it wasn't _completely_ untrue, but still.

He stood in front of the door, self-consciously running his hand through his hair and licking his fingers to clean a smudge off his face. What he probably accomplished was making it worse.

Kyle and Stan opened the door, seeming surprised that he'd gotten there so fast. Stan waved awkwardly. "Hey Kenny."

"Hey. We goin' or what?"

"... it's twenty degrees, do you have a coat?" Kyle asked.

"... really, Kyle? After sixteen years, you question why I don't have a coat?"

"... sorry. Get in the car, let's head up to the hosptial. Grab you some food on the way. KFC alright?"

"Yeah."


	3. Chapter 3

It would be a twenty minute drive, now that they had their food, and Kenny settled down in the back seat for what would probably be the longest twenty minutes of his life. He scarfed his chicken quietly, listening to Stan and Kyle to the same in the front seat. He shivered a little, the cold finally sinking in, but didn't bother to ask Kyle to turn up the heat.

"... there's a blanket back there somewhere, Kenny," Kyle said suddenly. "You're welcome to it."

"I'm good." Kenny continued eating, staring out the window.

"So... what actually happened?" Stan asked. "I mean... how did..."

"Was in my room. Didn't see it happen."

"Dude, we're not the cops, you can tell us."

"Why would I lie?" Kenny snapped. "I didn't see nothing. Just heard the gunshots and ran out to the living room. Kevin was holding the gun, the old man was against the wall with a bullet hole on either side of 'em. I'm looking for the third hole. Kev goes 'why'd ya have to get in the way, Karen?' I look, and there's Kare..."

"Okay, dude... I'm so sorry..."

"Don't say you're sorry like she's dead or something!"

"Okay, okay, Jesus, Kenny, calm down."

Kenny shut up, looking back out the window. He couldn't get the image of Karen just laying there limp on the stretcher out of his head. He shook his head violently, but the image persisted.

Why hadn't he been out there? Why hadn't he been able to protect her? What the hell kind of older brother was he? If he'd been doing his job as her big brother, yeah, he might've gotten shot, but he'd just wake up in bed the next morning like every other fucking time he'd been killed. And no one would know. Karen would be okay, and no one would ever know.

God, he'd fucked up.

Kenny shook a little, a wave of nausea crashing over him suddenly. He covered his mouth, swallowing a little, before choking out, "... Kyle, pull over."

"What? Why?"

"Pull the fuck over."

"Kenny, dude, you okay?" Stan asked.

"Pull the fuck over, I'm gonna spew!" he barked.

Kyle pulled off the road, and Kenny flung open the door before he'd even put the car in park. The blond boy staggered several feet, then vomited spectacularly into the snow. He heard Stan and Kyle get out of the car, but he didn't turn around, he was too busy dry-heaving.

Dry-heaving, and trying not to cry.

Suddenly Kyle's hands were on his shoulders. "Kenny, dude, are you okay?"

Kenny shoved him off, wiping his face with both hands. The tears that had threatened to fall streaked the dirt on his face, and he stood up. "I'm fine. I'm fine, let's go."

"Kenny, you just puked."

"Ain't eaten since Thursday, and just scarfed KFC in a moving car."

"That isn't why, dumbass."

"Let's just go." Kenny stood up, wobbled for a moment, and headed back to the car. He clambered into the backseat, slamming the door, waiting for Stan and Kyle to join him.


	4. Chapter 4

They reached the hospital a short time later, and were quickly directed to Karen McCormick's room. Kenny rushed in, leaving Kyle and Stan to notice that neither Mr. or Mrs. McCormick was present. Not that that surprised anyone, really.

Kenny put a hand over his little sister's, looking closer to tears than ever before. Stan and Kyle turned away, knowing that Kenny wouldn't want them to see him cry, if he was going to. They trailed out into the hallway, where they caught the attention of a passing nurse, who looked startled.

"Oh, hello, can I help you boys?"

"No, we drove our friend in to see his sister. He's in there."

The nurse looked at Karen's door, and clicked her tongue. "Oh dear, little Karen? She's very lucky, the bullet missed her lung, but cracked a rib and broke her shoulderblade. Her calcium deficiency's made her bones very brittle."

"But she's gonna be okay, right? Kenny's really worried."

"She'll be fine. I'm just worried about when she'll have to testify at that trial."

Kyle and Stan blinked. "... what trial?"

"Apparently her brother's being charged with attempted murder for shooting her, though I don't know how they expect her to testify if she doesn't speak..."

"Yeah, Karen doesn't really talk all that much, in fact, sometimes when we visit Kenny, we don't even know Karen's home."

"... this isn't the brother that shot her, is it?"

"Nah, that was the oldest kid. This is Kenny, he's the middle child."

The nurse shook her head again. "I worry about that little girl. But if her big brother's that worried about her too, I can tell he'll do anything to keep her safe from now on."

"Yeah..." Stan glanced into the room. "Yeah, he will."

Meanwhile, Kenny had taken up a seat next to Karen, his knees pulled up to his chest as he watched her heart monitor. He watched the spikes on it, and as the beeping sank into his ears, his mental beatdown continued.

_I should've been there faster,_ he scolded himself. _Karen... I'm so sorry... I swore I'd never let anything bad happen to you, and now look what's happened_.

"... I'm the worst brother ever," he said aloud.

A soft nudge to his leg made him look up, and he was shocked to find Karen looking back at him. She said nothing, merely shaking her head and putting her hand on top of his. Kenny stood up quickly, blinking, and suddenly hugged his sister. "Kare, you're awake! How do you feel, sweetie?"

Karen stuck her tongue out.

"Sucks balls, huh? Well, I brought you a few things, if it'll make you feel better." He pulled the backpack off his shoulder, pulling it open and offering out the bundle. He opened it and handed Karen her doll. "I brought Molly, and your blankie."

Karen hugged the doll, letting Kenny gently wrap the blanket around her shoulders, and looked up at her brother, pointing at him curiously.

"What about me? ... nah, I'm fine. Just worried, that's all..."

Karen pointed to his hands. Kenny looked down, and realized that his knuckles were completely busted open, the blood congealing around and in the wounds. "... holy shit, I didn't think I hit him that hard... well, guess I'll have to take care of that while I'm here, huh?"

His sister smiled a little, weakly, and Kenny patted her head. Her smiled quickly faded, however, and she looked down.

"... what's wrong, Kare?"

She shook her head, looking very close to tears.

"... Kare, what's the matter?"

Karen finally pointed to a paper on the table beside her bed. Kenny picked it up, scanning it quickly. "... what the fuck do you mean they want you to appear in court? The hell for?!"

It was at this time that the nurse poked her head in, smiling at Karen. "Oh, good, you're awake. And this must be your big brother."

"Yeah, hi, what the fuck, Kare?! When did you get this?!"

The nurse noticed what Kenny was holding, and clicked her tongue again. "Oh, that was dropped off ten minutes ago, she read it and got so worked up that she passed out. They're charging the shooter with attempted murder, and want her to testify at his trial."

"She's twelve! She can't handle that!"

"The prosecutor doesn't care, I'm afraid. It's sick, but there's nothing anyone can do."

Kenny looked furious, but his anger melted away when Karen pulled at his shirt, shaking her head. He sighed, hugging her gently. "... alright, Kare. We'll get you through this, okay? I promise, everything's going to be okay."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ugh, your family needs to stop getting arrested, Kenny. It's embarrassing to be seen with you anymore, the whole town's talking about how your brother's an alcoholic."

Kenny tried to ignore the other boy's taunts. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Cartman's bullshit right now. The blond boy bit into his hamburger moodily, not replying to him.

"I mean, could your family _be_ any more stereotypically poor?! Like, your dad's an alcoholic, your brother's an alcoholic, your mom's probably an alcoholic, and you're probably gonna be an alcoholic when you get older! You already come in smelling like booze!"

"Lay off him, Cartman, his sister's in the hospital and his brother's gotten arrested for attempted murder," Kyle snapped.

"Shut up, ya fuckin' Jew. I was talking to Kenny. You an alcoholic, Kenny?"

"_What the hell Cartman_."

Kenny continued to say nothing, finishing his burger silently and taking a drink of his soda. He just needed to get through the day, and he'd be off to visit Karen.

"Come on, Kenny, how much do you drink in a day?"

"Not cool, Cartman," Stan interrupted.

"You like vodka or beer better, Kenny? Or whiskey?" Cartman kicked Kenny's backpack a little. "You got a bottle in here? Do you, Kenny? You're drunk right now, aren't you, Kenny?"

"Cartman-"

"Face it, Kenny. You're gonna end up becoming an alcoholic just like your dad and your brother and you're gonna shoot little girls too. You're gonna become an abusive fuck like your old man."

"_YOU SON OF A WHORE!_"

Kenny flung himself at Cartman, knocking him to the floor and punching him repeatedly in the face. The rest of the cafeteria came alive with reaction, girls screaming and boys cheering.

"Yeah, Kenny!"

"Kill 'em, Kenny!"

"Kenny, dude, calm down!" Stan shouted.

Cartman flailed, trying to fight back, but with no effect, in fact, it almost amused his attacker. It took the combined efforts of Stan, Kyle, and Clyde Donovan to pull Kenny off of Cartman, but they were only able to keep him at bay for a minute or so, just long enough for Cartman to stand and limp away several feet before Kenny tackled him again.

Several teachers appeared suddenly, and it was the Phys. Ed. teacher who managed to separate the boys, long enough for the Chemistry and Band teachers to pull Cartman up and remove him from the room.

"_SAY ONE MORE WORD ABOUT MY FAMILY, AND I'LL KILL YOU, FATASS!_" Kenny screamed after Cartman.

"That's it, McCormick, you're going to the office!"

"Good! Means I can get outta this shithole faster!" he snapped, wrenching his arm out of the man's grasp and striding toward the door.

"Get the hell back here, you little shit, where do you think you're going?!"

"Office!" The door slammed shut after the boy, and Stan and Kyle merely looked at each other.

Ten minutes later, Kenny was staring blankly at the principal as the woman spoke of punishments and consequences. The counselor was standing by, as was the Phys. Ed. teacher.

"-understand that you can't just attack your classmates, now why don't you explain exactly why you saw fit to beat up poor Eric."

"Because Cartman's a piece of shit, Ma'am."

"... um... alright, Kenny, let's not be so vulgar, okay? We have to suspend you for the rest of the week. And when you return, you are to attend anger management sessions with the school counselor. Do you understand me, Kenny?"

He gave a non-committal grunt.

"Good. Your friends brought your things, and Stanley Marsh says he'll bring you the homework. Now, we've tried to get ahold of your parents, but no one's answering your home phone. Can you walk home?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I really don't want to see you here again, Kenny. Especially after what's happened with your family-"

Kenny's head shot up so fast he heard the bones crack. "What do you know about that?!"

"Everyone knows about that, Kenny. It's a shame, but that's what happens when you make bad choices with alcohol. I just hope you'll take that as a sign to never touch the stuff yourself."

Silent as normal, Kenny stood up suddenly, grabbing his backpack and striding out.


	6. Chapter 6

At the end of the day, Kyle and Stan stopped by the McCormick house with Kenny's homework, and found their friend outside, working on his Jeep. He'd replaced three of the tires, and was halfway through the fourth. It honestly shocked them that he could be sweating like he was, especially in this weather.

"Um... hey, Kenny."

"Hey."

"... finally replacing those tires, huh?"

"Yup."

Kyle looked at Stan, then toed the ground. "... where'd you, uh, get the money for that?"

"I swear to God, Kyle, if you say a fucking word about money, I'll kick your teeth in."

The redhead held up his hands as Kenny resurfaced, cracking his knuckles and kicking the tire to check the pressure. His shoulders slumped when he actually spotted Kyle and Stan standing there. "... I'm sorry. I... things're just tense right now."

"I don't blame you, Kenny. Cartman was being a piece of shit."

"Cartman's always a piece of shit. Cartman's been a piece of shit since pre-school."

"Agreed."

"... I sold some of my stuff to places in the mall. That's how I got the money to replace my tires," Kenny admitted. "Few DVDs, some comics, old videogames. Fixed Old Lady Simons's car today. Made enough to replace my tires and even pick up some dinner for Kare tonight."

Kyle nodded a little, kicking a pile of snow. "... y'know, Kenny, if you need money, I'm more than willing to help. You know that."

"Yeah, I do." Kenny clambered up into the Jeep, starting it. "I gotta head up, guys."

"Alright, yeah, sure. See you tomorrow, Kenny."

"Yup." Kenny backed out of the yard, turning up the radio as he sped off. He stopped by the pizza place to grab a couple slices for himself and Karen, because he knew from experience that hospital food was gross.

"-_'Cause I was thinkin' 'bout a little white tank top sittin' right_  
_There in the middle by me_  
_I was thinkin' 'bout a long kiss man just gotta get_  
_Goin' where a night might lead_..."

Kenny sighed a little as he reached the turn-off to head up the mountain, and clicked on his turn signal. He made the turn, walking the Jeep back up to sixty, whipping around turns. He patted the steering wheel, turning up the radio. He liked driving recklessly sometimes, especially when he was trying not to think about anything.

"-_Friday in the p.m._  
_And just like every weekend_  
_I was ready to throw down_  
_Yeah get a little tore up_  
_So I call my bros up to meet me out on the town_

_Well wild man Willy said I like to really_  
_But Idol's on TV_  
_And Ray had a date_  
_With his wife and Nate quit drinking_  
_But he didn't tell me_..."

He checked his rearview, then slowed when he spotted the lights of the hospital up ahead. He turned into the first empty parking space he found. He didn't shut off the Jeep just yet, however, studying his own face in the mirror. Cartman had landed a good hit on his face, it seemed, and his eye had bruised up quite nicely.

Kenny chuckled a little, touching the bruise. This wasn't anything new, in fact, he looked weird without any kind of damage to his face. Normally, he'd've brushed it off with a jovial "chicks dig shiners," but he merely shook his head, then grabbed the box containing the pizza slices before heading inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Never minding the stack of papers and such, Kenny sat quietly beside his little sister as she ate her pizza quietly. Apparently, some lawyers and counselors had been in earlier to try and prepare Karen to testify against their brother at his trial, but, as Kenny predicted, not even they could make her speak.

Karen tugged on his sleeve, causing him to look up. She was pointing insistently at his eye, her own gaze questioning exactly how he'd gotten the shiner. He touched the bruise, chuckling. "Got it in a fight. You should see the other guy."

Her twelve-year-old gaze was disapproving, and she just shook her head at him. He shrugged a little bit. "Cartman was being an ass, someone had to put him in his place."

The door opened suddenly, and two very familiar figures emerged into the room. Their mother rushed over the the bed, hugging her daughter as tightly as she could without hurting her, and then turning to her son. "Sweetie-"

"Don't," Kenny said coldly, actually surprised at his own voice. "Don't touch me."

"Kenny..." His mother reached to pet his hair, and he ducked out from under her hand.

"I said don't fucking touch me."

"Kenny, you don't talk that way to your mother," his father snapped.

"You don't stand idly by while your son shoots your daughter. But you did, didn't you."

Both of his parents stood in shocked silence, and Karen pulled her knees up to her chest. Kenny didn't say another word about it, and put a hand on Karen's head. "... I'm sorry. I... I just..."

"You're just angry, Kenny," his mother finished.

"We all are," his father agreed.

"That's why we didn't come in sooner."

Kenny looked puzzled at that statement, and his mother shrugged. "Your father lost his temper at the police station and punched your brother in the mouth. Collared for assault. They held him for three days."

Kenny didn't reply to that, instead looking down at Karen. "... they want her to testify against Kevin."

"We know. Because she's the victim, we can't tell them no. Even though..."

"Even though she doesn't talk. But they can't make her, because she really can't anymore, I don't think," his father finished. "... is that right, Karen?"

Karen didn't even attempt to respond.

"... Kenny, what happened to your eye?" Stuart asked.

"Fight."

"Were you fighting at school again, you little shit?!"

"Stuart!"

"As if we don't have enough to worry about, now Kenny's gotten himself in trouble at school-"

"Cartman was insulting the family!" Kenny shouted. "What, you gonna whip me for defending you?!"

Everyone was silent. Kenny continued speaking. "Yeah. I punched Cartman in the face, and they suspended me for the rest of the week. I was sticking up for my family and I won. All that matters."


	8. Chapter 8

Kyle pulled open the front door at the sound of the third knock, and honestly wasn't even shocked that Kenny stood there in the snow, his hands shoved into his pockets.

This had been sort of a norm for years now, that Kenny would turn up at his house at odd hours. However, it was usually after a fight with his parents, and more often than not, Kenny would be bearing a bruise or two. Tonight, however, he seemed physically fine. A little tired, but that was to be expected, coatless as usual, and clutching a sketchbook to his chest. His blue eyes were underscored by dark circles, and his face looked paler than normal under the accumulating dirt.

"... Kenny?"

"... hey Kyle. Got a free floor tonight?"

"Got a free couch. And food. Come on in."

"Thanks, Kyle."

Very quickly, a plate of reheated leftovers and a glass of milk were set in front of Kenny at the kitchen table. The blond boy was thumbing through his sketchbook, and only looked up from it when Kyle tapped him on the shoulder. He set the battered book aside, starting to pick at the leftovers.

"... you don't like pot roast and yellow rice?" Kyle asked.

"It's edible, right? What's not to like?"

"Is it too hot?"

"'S fine, Kyle, thank you." Kenny took a more ambitious bite, chewing slowly. "Just haven't been eating since Kare."

"... wanna talk about it?"

"No." Kenny downed half the glass of milk in one go, and then took another bite of his food. "It's been over a week, Kyle. They come in three days ago talking about prosecuting Kevin, and telling Kare she has to testify or whatever..."

"They can't force the victim to testify, Kenny, Dad's told your dad that before."

"Mom was high, Dad was drunk, Kev was not only drunk but is also the shooter, and I wasn't in the room. Kare doesn't have to testify, but if she doesn't, Kevin's public defender's gonna rip prosecution to shreds because there's no credible witness. Mom and Dad are too scared of Kevin now to kick him out if he gets off, and who's to say he won't do it again?"

Kyle sighed, sipping his tea. "... you're scared that Kevin's gonna go free, and something else is gonna happen to Karen. Possibly something worse."

"... I should've been out there, Kyle. I should've gotten her out of the room when I heard them start fighting. But no, I sat in my room drawing like a fucking idiot." Kenny picked up his sketchbook again, then scowled, throwing it on the floor in anger.

Kyle picked the book up gingerly. The sketchbook had definitely seen better days, and much of the artwork contained within was done on scraps of paper jammed between pages and into the pockets inside the covers. He turned it over in his hands, opening it and thumbing through it.

Kenny's drawings weren't very unusual for a boy their age, though the skill level certainly was. Some were sketches, some were charcoal, inked, full color, even painted. Nude women, sketched in lewd poses with all the class of the hand of a college art student; crude, blocky faces screaming obscenities at small, humanoid shadows; flames surrounding non-descript figures; mean-looking, incredibly detailed dragons; scenes of explicit gore and sex abound...

But what surprised him most were the occasional breaks from the depravity of Kenny's warped, twisted little mind. Every so often, a vivid picture of a princess, or a superhero, or a small animal would grace the page, with careful detail put into the dresses, into the trim and lace and folds, into the capes and fabric, into the fur and especially into the faces. Not a single one of them looked sad or afraid; they all had an unmatchable expression of hope and happiness on their faces, as if the fact that they were being seen was the fulfillment of their wildest dream.

Then Kyle came to the last picture in the book. It was about halfway through the book, a picture of an angel. Her little hands were clasped together, peeking out from cavernous trumpet sleeves, and her white gown was trimmed in daintily drawn lace. But there was no denying who the little angel was modelled on.

"... Kenny... is this Karen?"

"... yeah. That was what I was doing instead of looking out for my kid sister. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"Not at all. Has she seen it?"

"Nah. Was gonna get it framed for her for Christmas." Kenny took the book back from his friend, glaring at the picture. "... it's no good anyway."

"That isn't true. Come on, Kenny, talk to me. What exactly are you worried about?"

"... Kare wants to do it. She wants to testify so Kev goes to jail and maybe some of the fighting at home would stop. But... she can't."

"Why can't she?"

"She's got selective mutism or something. She hasn't said a word to anyone in two years. I don't think she could talk now even if she wanted to. Dad sure doesn't."

Kyle bit his lip, then nodded a little. "I see."

"No you fucking don't!" Kenny snapped. "You don't see anything! The worst your parents ever do is ground you, the worst thing that ever happened to your brother was him breaking his arm sledding! My little sister got _shot_! By our older brother! You don't understand _anything_ about what I'm dealing with right now!"

Kyle sat there quietly, letting Kenny vent. He leaned back in his chair, sighing very, very softly. "... still don't want to talk about it, huh?"

"... shut up, Kyle."

The redhead chuckled, ruffling his friend's hair. "Lemme go make up the couch for you."

"Thanks _Ma_."

"You're welcome, _sweetheart_," Kyle replied just as sarcastically, flicking him in the forehead. "Going to see Karen tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Dad'll drive up with you, maybe talk to your parents about Karen's options. You guys need a better lawyer, man."

"Oh, let me consult our finances. Yeah no."

"... come on, bedtime. I'll make up the couch."


End file.
